


The wild and wonderful adventures of the Doctor, his TARDIS and The Prisoner

by theprydonian_archivist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprydonian_archivist/pseuds/theprydonian_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"The Doctor looks affronted, which is, of course, </i>exactly<i> what the Master was aiming for. Not in the long term, no. What the Master wants on the long term is the Doctor locked in a little cage again, with his huge Bambi eyes pleading for him to stop slaughtering innocents. But… baby steps."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The wild and wonderful adventures of the Doctor, his TARDIS and The Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Prydonian](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Prydonian). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [The Prydonian collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/theprydonian/profile).

When the Doctor does eventually find the Master, he’s in the fifth tearoom. He knows it’s the fifth for numerous reasons. One, because it happens to be his favourite and two, because it says so on the door.

The Master is sitting calmly at the table, apparently waiting for him, because his eye line is directly on the door, exactly where he estimated the Doctor’s face to be. He was about five centimetres out, something that he adjusts the moment the Doctor enters. The Master’s fingers are laced, the jacket of his suit carefully smoothed down, and two cups of tea sit innocently on the table, tendrils of steam rising from them. He smiles. “Tea?”

The Doctor raises his eyebrows and removes his coat jacket before sitting down. Reaching over to the Master’s cup he swaps the two, pausing with a suspicious look on his face. The Master just smirks.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Whatever gives you that idea? Take a sip.”

“How do you know I haven’t poisoned that one because I knew you’d swap them?”

“For exactly that reason. Drink.”

The Master shrugs, raises the cup and downs the contents. The Doctor raises his eyebrows, pushes his own cup across the table to the Master and waits again.

“What now?”

“Take a sip.”

“And here I was thinking that you were dismissing the idea that I’d poisoned that cup.”

“You ever seen The Princess Bride? Drink.”

The Master shrugs, and again downs the entire cup, pulling a face. “You were right you know, I knew you’d swap the cups. Which is why I put two sugars and milk in yours and only one in mine. How can you _drink_ two sugars in tea?”

The Doctor looks affronted, which is, of course, _exactly_ what the Master was aiming for. Not in the long term, no. What the Master wants on the long term is the Doctor locked in a little cage again, with his huge Bambi eyes pleading for him to stop slaughtering innocents. But… baby steps. 

“How can you drink it with only one?”

“Because I actually like to be able to taste tea, not drown it out with sugar.”

“I can taste the tea. Otherwise I’d just drink water, milk and sugar.” 

The Master pulls another face. “That’s what yours was. I was wondering if you’d be able to tell the difference.”

“No poison?”

“Oh, Doctor, really. Where would I get poison? Your stupid contraption has locked me out of every room that could conceivably have any ingredients for poison. I’m not even allowed in the garden. And for some reason… Jack’s room.”

“You tried to get into Jack’s room?”

“I’m. Bored. If you would let me out for just five minutes I could-”

“Take over an entire civilisation?”

“Would I do that?”

The Doctor just snorts and nods before crossing the room with the two empty teacups and refilling the kettle.

“Tea?”

“No.” Answers the Master darkly, sending the Doctor a glare. “I’m curious though. Why would the TARDIS want to keep me out of Jack’s room?” He raises one eyebrow, carefully letting it sit there, smirking at the Doctor. 

“There are any number of reasons why she would keep you out of that room.”

“Such as?”

“Respecting his privacy.”

“I got into all the other companion’s... well, the ones I could be bothered with, you’ve had far too many. They’re mostly all the same, with little pencilled drawings on the walls with ‘I love the Doctor’ scrawled across them. I have to hand it to them though; they did manage to make them horrendously unique. Rose, for example, uses far, far too much pink. Martha is far too neat. What is she, obsessive compulsive or something? Leela – why do you still have Leela’s room anyway?”

The Doctor ignores him, sitting down with his cup of tea and spooning two sugars into it before stirring. 

“What would alleviate your boredom then, Master? Other than going through my past companion’s rooms, taking over civilisations, murder, torture or blowing up planets?”

The Master just raises both eyebrows together in a much too suggestive manner, which the Doctor, again, ignores.

“We could go land on Luxica and just watch it from the console room. They have the best forests there, almost magical. The trees are these vibrant colours, with beautiful flowers that change colour depending on the season. Martha swore that the forest was magical because she thought that she saw a monkey turn into a parrot, which is just absurd really because how on Earth would it turn into a parrot? I mean if it were another mammal of the same family, sure, but a bird? That’s just ridiculous, why a-” He stops when he sees the Master’s face. “Not Luxica? What do you suggest then?”

Rolling his eyes, the Master shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know… we could rip through the fabric of time and space dividing two universes, fight off a hoard of Daleks and Cybermen, rescue a dear companion and then leave her trapped there… Oh wait. That’s been done.”

The Master’s beam broadens in response to the Doctor’s subsequent glowering. “How did you know about that?”

“Oh, you might have sectioned some bits off indefinitely, but your TARDIS is quite the chatterbox if you talk to her nicely enough. It was easy enough to hack into certain parts of the memory once I sweet-talked her into it. I’ve been watching the wild and wonderful adventures of the Doctor and his TARDIS on the television in my room.”

“How on Gallifrey did you get her to talk to you at all? You turned her into a _paradox_ machine.”

“How on _Gallifrey_? Well let me see, Doctor. Seeing as you _destroyed_ Gallifrey…”

“Shut up. Right now.”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe I should keep going. Tell me, Doctor. You could rip apart the universe, swallow Gallifrey whole, zip up time and space so it never existed, not at all, ever, and yet you can’t breach one little gap between two universes and save poor Rose?” The Master pulls an over-exaggerated sad puppy dog face. “How sad that must make you feel.”

Teeth grinding, the Doctor’s hand slams so hard on the table that the teacup rattles in its saucer. “Shut up.” He says in a low, dangerous voice.

The Master stands up, silky voice crooning at the Doctor as he runs his fingers up his arm. “Or what, exactly?”

It takes a while for the Doctor to realise where the growl is coming from before he discovers that it’s his own throat making the noise. 

“You see,” says the Master, stroking his fingers up the Doctor’s face, punctuating the following words with little slaps on his cheek. “I could do this all day, and you can’t do anything to stop me.” In one swift movement, the Doctor stands up, grasps both of the Master’s wrists and pulls them behind his back. “Ohh, Doctor. There it is… that’s the little burning fire of hatred that I’ve so long been waiting for.” He smacks his lips together. “Yummy. Tell me Doctor, did Rose cry out in bed? ‘Oh, Doctor, baby, sweetheart, darling.’ Did she ask you to make her better?”

The Doctor’s growling intensifies and he gathers the Master’s wrists in one hand, reaching into his pocket for two little silver rings and fastening them, just below the wrist bone before letting go. 

“Jewellery? Really Doctor, you shouldn’t have.”

The Doctor just raises his eyebrows, and watches as every muscle, every bone and organ in the Master’s body except his vitals freeze. Slowly, seeing that he’s made his point, he lets the Master relax again, coughing and gasping for breath.

“That,” he says softly, “is what I can do to stop you. Now shut up.” His glare lingers on the Master’s face before he splits into a giant, albeit mostly fake grin. “Now, how about Luxica? Now that you’ve made me put those rings on you, we could even go outside.”

“Oh, how fun does that sound? Running around in a magical forest, looking at the monkeys turning into parrots while I’m wearing mind controlled handcuffs. Sounds like a wonderful day out. Just, tell me, Doctor. What do you intend on doing when we get back? Keeping me here so you can _save_ me?”

The Doctor just smiles, shakes his head, picks up his coat and runs out the door, pausing in the wooden doorway. “Coming? Or are you going to sit there sulking? You were the one complaining you were bored.”

Flashing the scowling Master another huge grin, he disappears, the sound of his running footsteps echoing up the hallway.

Rubbing absentmindedly at the metal rings around his wrists, the Master glares at the blank wall. “The wild and wonderful adventures of the Doctor, his TARDIS and the prisoner. Part one. How exciting.”


End file.
